Julia is Found Drowned

The morning which succeeded the events narrated in the last chapter was
clear and bright. Nature, beautiful as ever, looked as if laughing
defiance at the fearful storm which so lately had swept over the earth.
Beautifully over hill and valley fell the sun's red rays, but when they
penetrated the dwelling of Mr. Middleton, they shone on the anxious,
careworn faces of those who had been sleepless during the dark hours of
that dreadful night. Even the merry-hearted Florence seemed sad and
spiritless as she hurried from room to room, urging Ashton to accelerate
their departure. By eight o'clock the last guest was gone. Around the old
stone house a gloomy silence settled, broken only by the heavy tramp of
Uncle Joshua, whose cowhides came down with a vengeance, as up and down
the yard he strode, talking to Dr. Lacey, who walked by his side.

"Now," said he, "if this isn't a little the all-firedest muss a feller
ever got into, Josh ain't no judge. Of course the papers have nothing to
do but flout it all over the country. For myself I don't care a copper,
but 'twill be mighty mortifyin' to you, though I think you desarve some
mortifyin', for how in thunder a chap of your sense ever come to be made
such a precious fool of is more'n I can tell."

"If you knew all the arts she employed, you would not wonder quite so
much," said Dr. Lacey. And Mr. Middleton answered, "Know all her arts?
Don't I know 'em? Don't I know that she rummaged heaven and arth for ways
and means?"